"Kuch toh hai tujhse raabta,
Tere paas aaye bina, dil nahi lagta."

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Avyansh's POV

He looked at her intently, his gaze softening as he noticed her silence. Her body was still pressed lightly against his, her breath shallow, and he could feel the way her heart raced—matching his own.

The tension in the air was palpable, but there was something about it that didn’t feel suffocating. It felt... familiar, in a strange way.

He took a slow, steady breath, careful not to crowd her further. "Are you uncomfortable?" he asked, his tone gentler than before. His voice was calm, but there was an underlying tenderness that even he hadn’t anticipated.

Avantika didn’t reply immediately. The emotions swirling inside her were foreign, confusing. She was overwhelmed by how safe she felt in his presence, the warmth of his body, the steadiness of his heart.

She was torn between pulling away and wanting to stay right where she was. It was almost as if in this moment, with his arms around her, the world outside didn’t matter. Everything felt still—just the two of them, existing in this shared silence.

For once, she didn’t feel the weight of her family’s expectations or the pressure of the world around her. It was just them.

Her eyes fluttered slightly, and she noticed how his own gaze softened, a hint of understanding in his expression. His smile was small, yet it carried a warmth that she hadn’t seen from him before.

A small smile that told her he knew. He knew she hadn’t pushed him away.

The way he was looking at her now was different—not as the distant husband she had come to expect, but as someone who genuinely cared.

He hadn’t pulled back, hadn’t let go. In fact, the way he stood there, holding her gently but securely, made her realize something—he wasn’t going to let her fall.

And somehow, that comforted her.

Avantika’s heartbeat steadied a little, but her mind still raced. She didn’t know what this meant—didn’t know what this closeness would lead to—but in that moment, she didn’t feel the need to fight it.

His small smile deepened slightly. He hadn’t gotten a verbal answer, but the fact that she hadn’t pulled away spoke volumes. He wasn't blind to the unspoken communication between them, the shift in her body language, the way she was leaning just a fraction more into him.

"Good," he said quietly, more to himself than to her, his voice still gentle, almost reassuring.

He knew she wasn’t ready to talk yet, but the silence between them felt more like a quiet understanding, an acknowledgment of something they didn’t need to put into words.

As he held her, he didn’t need her to say anything. This was enough. For now.

Avyansh stood still, his heart beating softly in sync with hers, the weight of the silence between them filling the room. His head rested gently on hers, his fingers lightly brushing her back.

The warmth of her body pressed against him was comforting, almost magnetic, pulling him closer despite his usual guarded nature.

"Avantika," he whispered, his voice soft, almost tender.

"Hn..?" she murmured, her voice thick with sleep. Her words were slow, drowsy, the effects of the medicine and the warmth of his embrace sinking in.

A few minutes passed, and the room grew even quieter, the only sound the steady rhythm of their breathing. Avyansh glanced down at her, feeling her weight shift slightly in his arms.

Her head was resting against his chest, her body relaxing more with each passing moment. He noticed how her eyelids fluttered shut, her face softening into a peaceful expression.

Wait. Had she...?

He looked down at her, surprised. "She slept?" he whispered to himself, barely able to believe it. Just like that, in his arms, standing?

He'd never seen her so vulnerable, so relaxed, especially not in the past few days.

His mind raced for a moment, the shock of the moment dissipating as he realized she had fallen asleep. The exhaustion, the strain of everything that had happened, was too much for her, and now, in his arms, she had finally found some semblance of peace.

Carefully, he shifted his arms beneath her, ensuring he was being as gentle as possible. He didn’t want to disturb her sleep, but she needed to be in bed, not standing like this. Her surgery, her fragile state—he couldn't risk that.

Slowly, he lifted her into his arms, cradling her against his chest with surprising tenderness. He could feel her weight against him, her breathing slow and steady, completely unaware of how carefully he was moving.

Her head rested softly on his shoulder as he walked toward their room and the bed, the room still holding the calm atmosphere of their silent moment. As he reached the edge of the bed, he gently lowered her, taking great care not to jostle her or hurt her stomach.

Once she was settled, he pulled the covers over her, tucking them around her form. He made sure she was comfortable, placing her slightly on her side to prevent any discomfort. His hand lingered on her back for a moment, just feeling the rhythm of her breathing, the steady rise and fall.

He carefully scooted closer, positioning himself so that he wasn’t too close to disturb her but still close enough to offer a quiet sense of security. He didn’t want to go too far. He didn’t want her to feel alone.

The room was quiet again, save for the soft hum of the night. As he settled beside her, he made sure to keep a gentle distance, allowing her space, but a part of him felt an unexpected connection.

He wasn’t sure how it had happened, or why he felt this way, but he couldn’t deny the strange comfort in just being near her.

"Sleep well," he murmured softly, almost to himself, as he closed his eyes, his own exhaustion slowly catching up to him.

For now, he would let her rest. Everything else could wait.

Avantika's POV

I snuggled deeper into what felt like a warm brick, trying to seek comfort in the warmth. But then... wait, brick?

My eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding my thoughts. I quickly realized that the source of warmth wasn’t a brick at all. My throat felt dry, the need for water almost suffocating me.

I could feel the subtle weight of something, or rather, someone—their presence was unnervingly close.

I froze. The warmth, the steady rise and fall of their chest beneath my cheek... I was too close.

I quickly became aware of the hand under my kurti, warm and protective, gently resting on my stomach. My body stiffened at the realization. It was his hand. His warmth.

I looked up at him, my eyes widening in panic. What—? How—?

We were too close. I could feel his breath fanning across my forehead, the warmth radiating from his body now mixing with the cool night air.

The room was dark, save for the faint moonlight streaming through the window. It was past midnight, I thought, but everything felt like a blur.

When did I fall asleep? I couldn’t remember. My mind was hazy, my body sluggish, still heavy with sleep.

I tried to carefully move his hand off my stomach, but as soon as I did, I felt a shift. His eyes fluttered open, groggy and half-lidded, and a soft groan escaped his lips.

"What happened, jaan?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

Jaan.

My heart skipped a beat. The way he said it—so effortlessly, like it was the most natural thing in the world. I could feel the warmth of my cheeks as they flushed, my pulse quickening in response.

I cleared my throat, trying to focus. "W-water," I managed to whisper, my throat scratchy from the dryness.

His gaze softened, the sleepiness still clouding his features, but there was a gentle understanding in his eyes. Without another word, he slowly shifted, moving to get up. His hand gently pulled away from me, but his warmth lingered, leaving a strange sense of longing behind.

"Wait here," he murmured softly, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

I watched as he left the bed, the cool air rushing in where his warmth had been. My heart was still racing, a mix of confusion, nervousness, and... something else I couldn’t quite place.

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, trying to steady my breath, but all I could think of was the closeness between us.

The way he had held me, so effortlessly, with no hesitation. It felt natural, but it scared me, too. I wasn’t sure where this was going or what it meant, but I knew one thing for certain—I hadn’t expected to feel this... vulnerable.

And yet, I didn’t want to pull away.

I closed my eyes again, waiting for him to return with the water, silently questioning what was happening between us.

He returned with the jug in hand, filling a glass of water and walking towards me. His movements were slow, still heavy with sleep. As he handed me the glass, I took it gratefully, feeling the cool water soothe my dry throat.

I drank deeply, but his voice, hoarse from sleep, broke my focus.

"You need something else?" he asked, his gaze settling on me as he sat on the bed in front of me. His hair—oh, his hair—was a mess, sticking up in all directions like a nest.

I couldn't help it. A soft laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it.

And just as I did, the water I was drinking spilled—right on his face.

His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t move, didn’t even wipe his face right away. His expression was completely still, and I stared at him, realizing what I'd just done.

I froze, my hand still hovering over the glass, my heart pounding.

Then, finally, he wiped his face slowly, looking up at me with that strange glint in his eyes.

"You should have told me if you wanted me awake all night," he said, his voice still thick with sleep, his lips quirking into a small smirk. "I could have stayed up, you know. But this method... quite different, don't you think, biwi?"

His words hung in the air, and I couldn’t stop the flush creeping up my neck. His teasing tone was both playful and sharp, and I felt a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

"I-I didn't mean to..." I stammered, my voice quieter now as I looked away, trying to hide the heat in my face.

He leaned back slightly, his hand still wiping off the last traces of water, his eyes never leaving me. "Don’t worry, I’m not mad." His tone softened, but there was an undeniable teasing edge to it. "But be careful next time, biwi."

His use of "biwi" again made my heart flutter, and I struggled to find the words to respond.

"Well," I said, trying to regain some composure, "I didn’t mean to do that, but I guess... you're awake now."

He chuckled softly, his gaze softening. "I am indeed. And next time, maybe a little more warning before a surprise bath?"

I couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the tension from earlier melt away in the warmth of his words.

I heard the soft sound of him moving around—his footsteps as he changed, washing his face, and coming back into the room. I quickly slid under the blanket, hoping to escape the awkwardness of what had just happened.

My heart was still pounding from the laughter, the water spill, and the way he had looked at me.

I pretended to be asleep, hoping the act would give me a moment to gather myself.

For a few minutes, nothing happened. The room was quiet, and I couldn't tell if he was still awake or if he had fallen asleep as well. But then, just as I thought I could breathe a little easier, I felt his presence near me again.

His hand brushed lightly against my waist, his touch warm and gentle.

I froze, my body instinctively tensing.

He didn't stop there. Slowly, he pulled me closer, his arm wrapping around me with a tenderness I hadn't expected. I could feel his body pressing against mine, the warmth of his chest against my back.

My breathing hitched, the air in my lungs suddenly feeling heavier. My heart started racing again, and I kept my eyes shut, not daring to move. I was hyper-aware of every inch of him near me—his warmth, the rhythm of his breathing matching mine.

His presence was consuming, yet it was comforting in a way I didn’t fully understand.

I felt his breath against the back of my neck, and the sensation made my whole body shiver.

"Avantika" he whispered, his voice low and soft, his breath tickling my ear.

I could feel the gentle pressure of his arm around my waist, holding me close. I stayed still, my body betraying me with the rising beat of my heart, trying not to give away that I was very much awake.

Why was this so different? Why did it feel so... right?

I couldn’t help but wonder—Is this really good?

My mind raced with questions that I had been avoiding for a long time. Should I really deserve this? I had lived through so much uncertainty, pain, and loneliness.

This marriage, which once felt like a heavy weight on my shoulders, now felt like something different. But was it something real? Was it something I could trust?

Will I ever get love from him?

The thought lingered in my mind, the uncertainty gnawing at me. Will we ever have what normal couples have? The companionship, the understanding, the love they speak of in stories and songs. Would I ever feel that from him?

Could he ever look at me, not out of duty or because he was forced into this, but because he truly cared?

His arms were still around me, but my heart was a tangled mess of questions. I didn’t know the answers, but I couldn’t help but feel a small hope flicker in my chest.

Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for us to build something more than just a marriage of obligation. Maybe, I could find a place in his heart—one that wasn’t filled with anger or resentment, but with care and tenderness.

But then again, I had spent so much time waiting for something that might never come. Was it worth it to hope? To dream of a future with him when I wasn't sure where we were even headed?

What if I’m just holding on to a fantasy?

I closed my eyes, pushing away the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm me. I’ll take it one day at a time. For now, I would allow myself to be here, to be held, and maybe—just maybe—I could let myself believe that love, real love, might come someday.

Avyansh's POV

It’s been three days now since I left for Manhattan. Three days of constant work, constant calls, and constant pressure. But my mind... my mind kept drifting back to her.

The last time we spoke, it was that night—when she, out of nowhere, splashed water on my face. Damn, I could still feel the cold shock of it. But what struck me more was her laughter.

That light, carefree sound that somehow made everything feel less serious. In that moment, it felt like everything was... simpler. I liked it. I liked how she allowed herself to be real with me, even in the midst of everything.

The next day, everything seemed to fall back into its usual rhythm. I had to take care of Dev’s mess—had to remind him that there were boundaries, that he needed to focus on what was important.

I scolded him good, but in a way, I understood him. We all have our distractions, our escapes. But I made sure he knew where his priorities needed to lie.

The urgency of my trip to Manhattan had left little room for reflection on her—on us—but now, as I boarded my private jet back home, I found my thoughts shifting. What was she doing? Was she still avoiding me?I hadn't get time to call her . Just few talks with Dad.

Maybe it wasn’t just her who was keeping herself busy... maybe I was doing the same.

I’d built walls around myself for years, only letting people in when absolutely necessary. I was afraid of being vulnerable. But when she laughed that night—when she genuinely smiled—it was the first time I felt like I could drop those walls, even if just for a second.

I wanted to believe that she could be more than just the woman I was forced to marry. But, was she ready to believe the same about me?

What if it was too late to change things?

But for now, I was on my way back. And I couldn’t stop wondering if something had shifted, if there was a chance that things could be different now.

It was time to find out.

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